d the old fellow, whose cries
were almost suffocating him.

"Whisht, father, and let me talk," said the son; "do you know New
Orleans?"

"Perfectly.--every street of it," said I, with an effrontery the
darkness aided considerably.

"And how far is't from here?"

"Something like thirteen or fourteen hundred miles, at a rough guess."

"Oh, th' eternal villain! if I had him by the neck!" cried Joe, as he
struck the ground a blow with his blackthorn which certainly would not
have improved the human face divine; "he towld me they were a few miles
asunder,--an easy day's walk!"

"Who said so?" asked I.

"The chap on Eden Quay, in Dublin, where we took our passage."

"Don't be down-hearted, anyway," said I; "distance is nothing here: we
think no more of a hundred miles than you do in Ireland of a walk before
breakfast. If it's any comfort to you, I'm going the same way myself."
This very consolatory assurance, which I learned then for the first time
also, did not appear to give the full confidence I expected, for Joe
made no answer, but, with head dropped and clasped hands, continued
to mutter some words in Irish that, so far as sound went, had not the
"clink" of blessings.

"He knows Dan," said the old man to his son, in a whisper which, low as
it was, my quick ears detected.

"What does he know about him?" exclaimed the son, savagely; for the
memory of one deception was too strong upon him to make him lightly
credulous.

"I knew a very smart young man,--a very promising young fellow
indeed,--at New Orleans," said I, "of the name you speak of,--Dan
Cullinane."

"What part of Ireland did he come from?" asked Joe.

"The man I mean was from Clare, somewhere in the neighborhood of Ennis."

"That's it!" said the old man.

"Whisht!" said the son, whose caution was not so easily satisfied; and,
turning to me, added, "What was he by trade?"

"He was a shoemaker, and an excellent one,--indeed, I've no hesitation
in saying, one of the best in New Orleans."

"What was the street he lived in?"

Here was a puzzler; for, as my reader knows, I was at the end of my
information, and had not the slightest knowledge of New Orleans or its
localities. The little scrap of newspaper I had picked up on Anticosti
was the only thing having any reference to that city I ever possessed in
my life. But, true to my theory to let nothing go to loss, I remembered
this now, and, with an easy confidence, said, "I cannot recall the
stre